


Fortune Favors the Bold

by angelsandbrowncoats



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst with a Happy Ending, Demons, Ed is a damsel in distress, Elves, Elves are Dicks, Family, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lee is a badass, M/M, Marriage, Mutual Pining, Serious Injuries, brief mentions of noncon body modification, depends on what you consider intense, if you love jim gordon then this is probably not the fic for you, minor to moderate depictions of torture, the magic in this au is literally just there to be convenient lmao, there aren't rules, wait thats already a tag omfg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 09:09:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13478262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: When Martin tracks down Edward to get him to help rescue Oswald, things get messy and soon it’s Edward who needs rescuing, instead. But is one human boy and a tentative deal enough to break through the barriers they have built to keep each other out?





	Fortune Favors the Bold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freckledandspectacled](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledandspectacled/gifts).



> A very happy late birthday to edwardnashtons/freckledandspectacled, who is one hell of a swell individual! Your fics inspired me to start writing for this pairing, your headcanons/opinions inspire me to write more, and conversing with you about fandom, history, sociology, or anything else always makes my day. 
> 
> Enjoy!

His feet had long since numbed to the pain of the uneven street as he raced from one alleyway to the next, occasionally ducking behind barrels or into doorways when suspicious individuals were coming his way. Once upon a time, the cobblestone had been as smooth as cobblestone could be, providing a peaceful journey for horse-drawn carriages transporting goods from the port to the capital. But that was before. It was a good many years since the Port of the Narrows had declared itself a neutral realm, outside the jurisdiction of any kingdom. Long had it been the location of the largest prison in the kingdom of Gotham, the human realm. So large was this prison, that Gotham had been trading in prisoners for decades. Fae traitors, elven murderers, demon backstabbers – all were sent to Gotham, alongside piles of gold and magical treasures.

And then the Great Storm hit, and the east wall of the prison crumbled, freeing all the scum of the earth. They fought to keep the city for themselves, and after much bloodshed, an agreement was reached: criminals would continue to be sent there, but they would be allowed to govern themselves, provided they never became ambitious.

The cobblestone streets that had once transported goods to the king himself were picked apart by the residents like carrion on a corpse, leaving pockmarked and rocky alleys to torment the bare feet of the urchins that ran there.

But this particular boy was no urchin. No, he had narrowly escaped that fate thanks to Fortune – or, more accurately, to those who dared her. She was not pleased, he quickly found, as his position as next in line for the throne of two kingdoms became exile to a peaceful cottage in the wild forests in the blink of an eye. Yet so proud was the new queen that, even on the edge of nowhere, news of the demon king’s downfall and subsequent disappearance reached Martin.

Abandoning the shepherd Oswald had placed him with using a – clever, if he did say so himself – trick involving six cabbages and a stray lizard, Martin snuck aboard a carriage bound for the human capital. It was here that Martin found the well Oswald had built, bringing him along to see his work and telling him the old tales his mother had shared with him. If Fortune was angered by Oswald, then he would have to appease her to gain her help. A simple sacrifice seemed like a good start, so he put the skills Oswald had taught to good use and pilfered a number of coins out of the pouches of wealthy passers-by. Standing at the edge of the well, he pressed the silver into his hand, acutely aware of the crest of Gotham on one side and the image of Gotham’s new queen on the other. The irony of her image being present on the very item he was using to bring back her enemy was not lost on him, and he smiled to himself as he opened his fingers over the opening to the well, allowing them to fall to the bottom. All his wishes that Fortune could bring back the man that had been so like a father to him had been poured into those coins before he had given them to her. Now he had only wait to see if she would honor his sacrifice.

As he lounged against the smooth stone of the well, he picked up the sound of a hushed conversation whose participants he swiftly located by the wall. He crept closer, blending in with the crowds heading to market, stopping to examine a particularly interesting rock as he listened.

“You mean that weird fellow who used to work here?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Disappeared for awhile, came back at the side of the demon – “

“You mean as his concubine?” the first sniggered.

“I doubt most concubines are permitted such an influence over their lord’s decisions.”

“A consort then,” the noble waved dismissively, “Semantics. What I’m more interested in is this story about him staging a coup in the  _ Narrows _ . What have you heard?”

“Well, I heard he didn’t do much besides stand there, but he’s quite popular with the rats that live there. I guess he found his natural habitat. Always knew he didn’t belong in Gotham.”

“Who’s in charge, then?”

“You remember the Master Healer that married the queen’s brother?”

“What about her?”

“She’s in charge.”

“You jest.”

“I assure you, I do not. I have… sources.”

“You mean you have a smuggler down there bringing you all the best booze for the lowest prices?”

“Perhaps.”

“Whatever did go wrong between the freak and the demon, though? One minute they were thick as thieves, the next there was an order for his execution for attempted regicide.”

“Haven’t the foggiest. My lady claimed it was heartbreak, but I didn’t think either of them  _ had _ a heart to break.”

“I concur,” the other lord replied, “Say, I’ve tired of the sun. Could I interest you in a match of chess? Perhaps I can invite a few others ‘round, I have just had the latest rules in from the elven kingdom. Did you know, they play with four people now?”

“Four? Heavens, why?”

“For the humors, of course.”

They were collecting themselves to move, and Martin allowed himself to be swept away by the crowds. Fortune, it seemed, was very on top of things. For who else could the nobles have been speaking of, save for the close friend Oswald had told him of, who had betrayed and attempted to murder him? A plan began to form in his mind. Edward, he recalled, from one of the times he had woken up from a nightmare to find Oswald drunk at his desk, speaking to a small penguin made of paper.

Perhaps there was some way to trick Edward into helping him? Guilt trip him? Maybe he felt remorse? Or maybe he could sell it as a quest for vengeance. He had no doubt Oswald could take him on again if need be. And Fortune had graced him with the location of Edward, so all he needed to do now was get to the Narrows.

It had taken more time and effort than he had initially assumed, but at long last he was there, running up and down the alleyways as he followed the rather complex directions a haggard barmaid had given him to see the ‘queen’.

“She looks after children,” the barmaid had told him, obviously thinking he was seeking shelter, or an apprenticeship, “She looks after us all, but especially the children.”

There it was, the broken bell tower, standing guard over an unassuming staircase leading down to what one would assume was an underground tavern of some sort. They were not at all an uncommon sight in the Narrows. He hurried down the stairs and snuck through the door, hoping to enter unnoticed.

He was not successful.

This was no ordinary tavern, he saw immediately. A ring for fighting matches stood as a centerpiece, a bar tucked into the dimly lit corner. And, as it was just past midday, the only occupants of the club were the owner and employees.

A beautiful woman in a long but practical gown looked over at him, surprised but not yet expressing any noticeable anger.

“Are you lost?” she asked him, the only sound in the place, as everyone had frozen at the opening of the door.

Martin shook his head.

“I’m Lee Thompkins. Do you need something?” she handed the bottle she had been inspecting to the man at her side, wiping her hands on her black gown and stepping towards him.

He held out the paper he had prepared, hoping someone who had been a Master Healer could read.

She took the note with a confused frown, opening it and frowning deeper as she read the words.

_ I’m looking for a man named Edward. I need his help. _

“Edward?” she asked, and Martin nodded before he realized she was not directing the inquiry at him, “Do you know this boy?”

The man holding the bottle peered at him before shaking his head emphatically, “Never seen him.”

“He’s asking for you.”

“Is he?” Edward set the bottle down without paying it much attention, much more interested in the new mystery that had presented itself.

“Can you hear me?” Lee asked, and Martin recognized this as being a question for himself. He nodded.

“Can you speak?”

Martin shrugged.

“…Will you speak?”

He shook his head.

The man – Edward, presumably – jumped in, “Can you sign?”

‘Some things, yes,’ Martin signed at him. The man’s face fell before he smiled again, “Perhaps you can teach me. That’s not a form I’m familiar with. But then, you’d be… human, right?”

Martin nodded.

“It figures the humans would have a different form from the elves.”

Martin tilted his head, hoping his quizzical expression would convey his question without his needing to write it down.

“Ah, yes,” Edward nodded, running his fingertips over his rounded ears, “I am an elf. My ears were never very pointed to begin with, a source of much… animosity, for my father’s part. And consequently, my mothers. But this is the result of a rather… creative punishment. That’s all you need know.”

Martin nodded.

“So, you’re looking for me?” Edward placed his hand on his chest, eyebrows raised comically.

He nodded again.

“What for?”

_ I need your help to break into – and out of – one of the most secure dungeons in the world. _

“Oh,” Edward blinked, biting both his lips together, “Really?”

_ Yes. Now, there are a number of reasons why you wouldn’t want to, so: what do you want in return?” _

“In return?” Edward frowned, “I – I don’t know…”

“A jailbreak?” Lee asked, “Of whom, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Martin swallowed before writing:  _ Oswald Cobblepot _

Edward straightened his back immediately and took a step backwards, “No. Absolutely not.”

_ What would it take to change your mind? _

“It  _ won’t _ ,” Edward insisted, “I don’t want to see him ever again!”

Huh. Martin frowned at Edward’s theatrics as he appeared to be trying to physically ward off the very idea. He was being  _ awfully _ defensive.

“Heartbreak,” the man had said, and Martin had assumed it was Oswald who had been heartbroken. His late night, drunken crying had pointed to that. But… could the feeling have been mutual?

Before he could second guess himself, he asked:  _ Did you love him? _

Edward gave the most dramatic gasp Martin had ever witnessed, stepping backwards again, and shaking his head, “I did  _ not! _ ”

Oh. So he did. Even Lee was raising a doubtful eyebrow at her – friend?

_ Alright, well, maybe you want to kill him then. _

“Exactly! Yes. That is what I want. To do.”

_ How can you kill him if he’s in a dungeon in the demon realm? _

Edward paused, forehead creased, “I – um – I…”

_ Help me break him out. Then you can try to kill him. _

“Try?” Edward scoffed, “If I put my mind to something, I succeed!”

_ I thought you tried to kill him before, though? _

Edward pursed his lips, “Yeah, well – “

“Gentlemen,” Lee stepped in, holding out a placating hand to each, “Let’s not fight over the past. Edward, are you willing to help this boy?”

“I… yes.”

“Then why don’t you go take him to one of the spare rooms upstairs. He can stay with us while you plan your jailbreak. Unless you already have a place to stay?”

Martin shook his head, and Lee smiled, “Then you’re more than welcome to stay as our guest. Why don’t you follow Edward here, and we’ll get you situated, okay?”

He nodded, looking at Edward with the widest eyes he could manage. Oswald had told him more than once to use cuteness to manipulate people. Perhaps, if Edward became attached to him, he would allow himself to open back up to Oswald. Martin had, initially, wanted to hate him on Oswald’s behalf, but he wanted Oswald to be happy more than he wanted to perpetuate their feud.

“Alright, kid,” Edward was looking him up and down, calculating, as if he were wondering what about Martin made him special enough to have gained Oswald’s favor, “I guess you’ll be staying with us. Here’s the rules of the Narrows, as rewritten by our queen…”

~       ~       ~

A fortnight had passed since Martin’s arrival, and Lee was beginning to grow fond of the boy. She couldn’t say she was  _ pleased _ with the education Oswald had given him, but after living in – and ruling over – the Narrows for so long, she was neither surprised nor overly concerned by his affinity for violence. She could see he was growing on Edward, as well, and she was catching him in contemplation more and more often when he was alone. Something was on his mind, and she had a strong suspicion that ‘something’ was Oswald. She’d been wondering about his past relationship with and current feelings towards the man ever since he’d first arrived on her doorstep, dumb, bedraggled, and lugging around a tame troll.

Now, though – after seeing his reaction to Martin’s naïve question – she was certain. He was most certainly in love with the demon, however much he was repressing it. She had to decide whether encouraging him was a good idea, now that she knew. On the one hand, love was good. On the other, she was making  _ so _ much progress with Edward’s morality. Throwing him back into the path of a literal demon would probably  _ not _ help.

Her own contemplation was cut short by a loud bang from the arena. She grabbed a crossbow off the wall, took three bolts, and crept towards the door to the balcony from which she oversaw the matches. As she neared, she could hear Edward’s voice, surprised at the silence of the crowds, until she heard another voice. A familiar one.

“Listen, Nygma, it’s just a simple consulting job – “

“You? Consulting with me?” Edward laughed, “Listen, Jimbo, we both know I’m smarter than you and every one of your old comrades combined, but  _ because _ I’m so smart, I know this: you would  _ never _ ask me for help. You hate me. So what do you really want with me?”

“Come on, Nygma. Ed. It’s just a couple of days, you’ll be paid handsomely – “

“No. I’m paid plenty as it is. Whatever you want from me, you won’t have it.”

“I could just take you by force,” Jim Gordon offered, in that irritatingly casual way of his, as if the things he said were common sense and everyone else was just being a stubborn child about it.

“Oh really?” Edward taunted, “Well, if you want me, you’re gonna have to go through the queen.”

“The queen? Who’s the queen?”

Lee smiled at the confusion in his voice and took it as her cue to swan out onto the balcony, glad she had chosen the shimmering black and sky-blue dress for the evening. It was one of her finest, and she knew Jim had difficulties paying attention when a beautiful woman was in his vicinity. One of his tragic flaws, she supposed.

“I am,” she stated boldly, knowing the acoustics in the room were designed for optimal usage from the balcony, even with all the patrons standing frozen in place, watching the exchange. She punctuated her short sentence by hefting the crossbow up and resting it casually on the bannister. Always nice to remind the masses of why she was put in charge in the first place.

Jim gaped up at her, clearly surprised.

“Oh?” she asked, feigning innocence, “You hadn’t heard?”

“ _Lee?_ _You’re_ the Queen of the Narrows?”

“Surprised?”

“I, well, yes! This isn’t like you at all, Lee.”

“No? Tell me, James, since you’re so wise: what  _ is _ like me?”

He opened his mouth and she held up a hand. He tried to speak anyways, so she snapped her fingers and at once eight more of her employees and at least six patrons had weapons trained on him.

“Let me guess,” she exaggerated a sigh, looking up as if in thought, “Well, I’m nurturing, compassionate, kind, motherly – but in an accommodating kind of way – moral, that sort of thing? Right?”

“Er – yes?”

“So I couldn’t possibly be the queen of a place as  _ vile _ and  _ immoral _ as the Narrows? Because let me tell you, James, by that account, it is  _ incredibly _ understandable for me to be here. In a position of power, having the respect of the people, I can begin to improve their living conditions, try to teach them to be better, at least to each other. I can heal the sick, feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, and educate the children. So, really, not that surprising at all.”

“But – “

“ _ Unless _ , that isn’t what’s really bothering you. Maybe what you can’t imagine is my being in a position of absolute authority. Shocking, I know. I, a woman, can order you, a man, to be hanged on the spot.”

“No, Lee, that’s not what I – “

“I’m not interested,” she snapped, tone sharp yet bored, “Why are you here, since you so rudely barged in?”

“I need Ed, just for a few days.”

“Need him for what?”

“It’s a consulting job. I’m trying to track down a missing boy. His mother’s been sick with worry, but I’m at a loss. I need Nygma.”

“And why should I let you borrow him? What do I get in return?”

“Lee – “ Edward was looking at her with wide eyes, obviously surprised she was considering it, and she had to refrain from smirking.

Jim pulled a pouch off his belt, emptying the contents on the ground for all to see. At least thirty pieces of silver sparkled up at them.

“You’re trying to buy a person? This isn’t like you at all, James,” she said lightly, eyeing the money and wondering if it might be counterfeit. Then again, how much did that matter in the Narrows?

“Lee,” Jim all but growled.

“You may address me as ‘your majesty’,” she deadpanned.  

“ _ Lee _ ,” Jim continued, “Do you agree, or not?”

The room was dead silent as every single person held their breath, awaiting the queen’s response. Even the fighters stood, stock still, one with his fist still comically raised. Edward met her eyes, visually pleading. The corner of her mouth quirked up and she looked back at Jim, “Absolutely not. He said he didn’t want to go, and  _ I _ am not in the habit of forcing people to do that which they do not consent to do. I am ever the moralist, remember?”

“Lee, he’s  _ killed _ people!”

“And you haven’t?” she scoffed, doing nothing to discourage the titters of laughter boomeranging throughout the room.

“He betrayed his last ‘friend’ and employer, what makes you think he won’t do it with you?”

“What makes you think I couldn’t deal with him if he did? I’d be more concerned about yourself, and your partnerships. Speaking of which, I heard you got dumped by my sister-in-law. We’ve been a little too busy for our weekly tea sessions, so I’m  _ dying _ to know – did she drop you before or after she got you promoted for helping her to power? Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sure that’s not how it happened. After all, you’re  _ James Gordon _ . You’re not like those other,  _ corrupt _ knights.”

The giggles that had been ricocheting throughout the crowds were morphing into full fledged laughter at Jim’s expense. More than a few inhabitants of the Narrows had been exiled there on James Gordon’s orders.

“If you must know,” Jim ground out, “I am no longer worker for the crown. I’m an independent contractor these days.”

“Ooh, an  _ independent contractor _ . Let me guess: dear sis became just as cruel and power-hungry an overlord as the man you helped her oust, you tried to give her the ‘but this isn’t you!’ speech, she decided your dick wasn’t worth the hypocritical lectures – like so many women before her, and she fired you. Am I right?”

“Listen, Lee, can’t we do this in private?” Jim glanced around at the laughing crowd of criminals, growing more uncomfortable by the second. His failure to answer confirmed her suspicion and she let out a laugh of her own.

“No, James. If you have anything more to say, you may do so now. If not, be on your way.”

“Fine,” he bent down to pick up the silver and froze when he felt the tip of a rapier against his throat, “Umm…?”

“Leave it,” Lee advised, “This is the Narrows. We take honor… differently, here.”

“You would rob me? Lee, I really think – “

“Well maybe you should stop. Besides, do you know how many families that silver will feed? Saving lives is worth a little theft every now and then, don’t you think? Especially from someone who would only use the wealth to further himself at the expense of others. Fare you… mediocre, James Gordon. That is the best sentiment I can give you to depart my realm.”

Jim swallowed and stood up, backing towards the door, “This isn’t over Lee.”

“Indeed, it’s not. The match is still anyone’s game,” she answered, “Let the fight resume!”

She stayed at the arena for much of the rest of the night, Edward joining her for a bit of conversation between acts. It was well past midnight when she retired, barely paying attention to where she placed her gown. She collapsed onto her bed, exhausted from confronting her past.

She woke late, feeling groggy as she got ready for the next day. It wasn’t until she was halfway through her morning meal that she realized what was wrong. She hurried throughout the entire complex, checking every location she knew of before she reached a dreadful conclusion:

Edward was gone.

~       ~       ~

“Unhand me!”

“Shut it, Nygma.”

“What are you thinking? Why would I help you with  _ anything _ , if this is how you treat me?” Edward changed tactics.

“Because I don’t need your help. I wasn’t lying yesterday. I  _ am _ looking for a missing boy, and I  _ do  _ need you. Well, I suppose I lied about the mother part. She seemed mostly irritated when I saw her. But then, it’s always so hard to tell with elves. Irritated is like your natural state of being.”

“You will pay for this!”

“See?” he smiled, mockingly, “Irritated.  _ Constantly _ .”

And then Jim’s words sunk in, and Edward immediately ceased struggling.

“…Did you say…  _ mother? _ ”

Jim glanced over at him, “Yeah. Who’d have thought  _ you _ were a runaway elvish prince?”

“My – my parents hired you?”

“Yep.”

“ _ Please, _ ” the word rushed out of him, almost a whisper but too intense, “Please don’t do this. Please. I’ll do anything. I can get you anything. I can – “

“Oh, give it a rest. I’m being more than generously compensated for returning you. Besides, you’re a  _ prince _ . You don’t get to complain. You had your little adventure, went through your rebellious phase, now suck it up and live in your big fancy palace. Oh boo hoo, I feel so sorry for you.”

“No, you don’t understand - !”

His pleas were cut off by a musty rag, Jim shoving it into his mouth as a gag.

“Finally. Do you ever stop talking?”

Edward attempted to reply, all that came out a series of muffled noises, and Jim laughed, “Guess not. To the elves it is!”

~       ~       ~

Lee was sitting at her desk when she heard the door open. Her hand flew to her dagger, on the alert as she pondered her missing right hand man, but she relaxed when she saw it was only Martin.

“Martin, come in. Did you need something?”

Martin approached her desk, showing her the chalk note on the slate he carried with him for day-to-day communication.

_ Where is Edward? Usually he eats lunch with me, and we exchange thought problems. He didn’t show up today. _

“Martin,” Lee bit her lip, unsure how much she should share with the boy, “Yesterday, a man came ‘round, looking for Edward. We sent him away, but he must have figured out another way.”

_ Who? _

Lee let out a sigh of pure regret and exhaustion, “A man I trusted, a very long time ago. A man I  _ wanted  _ to trust.”

Martin figured this had something to do with that grown-up nonsense he didn’t understand and didn’t care to. It seemed like an awful lot of bother for even more pain, and honestly, weren’t adults supposed to be  _ smarter? _

_ How do we get him back? _

Lee looked at the words, blinking.

“Get him back?”

_ Well, obviously. He  _ _ belongs _ _ here. We need to get him back. _

“Of course, of course. You’re right. Alright, let’s think about this. Jim wanted Ed, but probably  _ not _ for consulting. Who is he working for again? Oh, that’s right. ‘Independent contracting’. So: who would pay someone to get Ed?”

_ The elves? _

“Martin! That’s brilliant. Ed has always been very touchy about his past, perhaps he committed a crime and ran away?”

_ Well, how do we get to the elves? _

“That’s… not going to be easy,” Lee trailed off, tapping a finger on the desk, “We’re going to need a good plan. Luckily, I have a few elven connections myself. My father was an elf, you know. Not that I ever knew him. Still, it’s gained me some favor with our elvish patrons. I’ll speak with them tonight.”

~       ~       ~

“Welcome home, son,” his father laid a hand on his shoulder, digging carefully filed nails into his flesh like claws, all the while his face remained serene, “I hope you enjoyed that nonsense and got all the adventuring out of your spirit. You aren’t going to see the light of day for a good long while.”

Edward swallowed hard, hands twitching toward his ears. He had been confined to the two rooms of his quarters for much of his life, and while he despised it, it was nothing new. No, it was not the imprisonment, nor the physical repercussions for his every move that got him to leave. It was the Sacrifice. The answer his parents had settled on to the problem of  _ him _ . He did not have the love, or even the trust, of the people. To rectify this, they wanted him to publicly declare his loyalty to the elves by having full elvish ears made of molten silver adhered directly to his flesh. He wasn’t fond of the idea, but it wasn’t until he was accosted in his private room and had his ears mutilated for the occasion on the order of his parents that he realized he needed to escape. It hadn’t been hard, since no one had expected it.

This time, though. This time they would expect it.

After the ‘return’ ceremony had concluded, and  _ Jim fucking Gordon _ had received his magical reward, along with an offer to stay for the Sacrifice, Edward was escorted to a room that was not his old one. This was little more than a cell, albeit with a desk and stationary. Edward had been restrained on the way to his quarters, and the guard, apparently, had no orders to remove his fetters, as he heard multiple kinds of locks, bolts, and bars click into place on the other side of the door. 

Well, no matter, Edward had been picking locks since before he’d learned to sing – one of the fundamental skills of any elf.

Once free of the shackles, Edward collapsed on the bed, hating the comfort it provided, having been designed for elves, unlike the beds he’d been occupying for the last decade or so. The comfort, however, was not enough to stop tears from welling in his eyes. He drew a blanket around himself, wishing it were a hug – although from whom he did not know. Lee perhaps? It was difficult to say. He felt himself shaking with restrained sobs and reached up to cover his face, almost too terrified to be shocked that it was damp. When had he begun to allow himself to cry? He wiped the tears away, a pointless effort, as more fell to take their place. After all this time, to wind up back here, as if no matter what he did, this was where he belonged… as if he deserved it.

He knew what future lie ahead of him. After the public torture – for what else could it be called – he would once again be confined to his quarters. Tutors would come, to teach him how to behave like a prince, and when they tested him it would be on material that he had not been taught. Edward was a quick learner, and it had been apparent since his developmental stage around the twentieth year of his life. His father had droned on and on about how failures were the most important part of learning, how proud he was that  _ he _ had never paid his lessons any mind. When Edward had aced his first test, he had been furious. How dare this boy, this boy who he had always doubted was his own, show him up? Edward had long been aware that his tutors were paid to be unfair, to fail and humiliate him. But no one listened to him, so there was nothing he could do.

And when the king finally tired of his game? When Edward was at last deemed suitable to serve the public? He knew what would happen, then, too. His father despised hearing the grievances of the peasantry. While it was true that the lowest elf would look down on the highest humans, dwarves, and demons, that did not mean they were treated well within their own kingdom. The king cared not for their troubles, and he would sooner have them killed than part with even petty cash for them. Edward knew that, once a fully fledged member of the royal family, he would be all but chained to the throne room, forced to listen to and subsequently turn away every troubled citizen. And, too, would he be forced to hear their curses and insults as the guards dragged them back. But he could not help them, for his parents were ever creative in their punishments.

Of course, there were always the other nobles and high-ranking clergymen to whom he must grovel. People whose opinions actually mattered to his parents. Ceremonies where he must watch his every move.

Yes, Edward could see his future  _ quite _ clearly.

He didn’t want this. He wanted  _ home _ and  _ friends _ and all the things he’d been denied his entire life. He wished he were back in the Narrows. He wished he were still being kicked around in Gotham. He wished Oswald could be here –

Wait.

He wished  _ what  _ now?

Edward sat up, tears slowing as he reexamined his thoughts. No, he had most definitely wished for Oswald. What could he mean by that?

Unless… Oswald was a being of immense magical power. They weren’t on the best terms, of course, but if anyone would make a deal with him, it would be Oswald.

He glanced around, eyes falling on the bottle of ink on the desk. Perfect. Oswald had taught him, long ago, how to summon him. It was something he’d locked away at the time and forgotten about until the present.

_ “I’m not a fan of being summoned,” he’d said, “It’s rather painful. But it is also one of the most powerful forms of magic in the universe. There is no power that can prevent a demon from being summoned if the summoner does so properly.” _

Edward took great care with his summoning circle, triple checking every measurement, and quadruple checking the words he would soon utter. It wouldn’t do to summon the wrong demon.

Finally, he was ready, and he spoke the proper words in the proper order with as much confidence as he could muster.

For half a second, nothing happened, and it was long enough for his heart to drop and the dread to creep back in, before the circle burst into purple fire.

Edward resisted the urge to take a step back, shielding his eyes as a figure materialized in the circle. Some sort of demonic scream echoed within Edward’s brain and he wondered if anyone else could hear it.

And then the figure finished forming, and Oswald Cobblepot was staring up at him in outraged disbelief.

~       ~       ~

“And why would I help you?” Oswald tapped out a mindless rhythm on his arm.

“I’m not asking you for a favor. I’m asking you for a deal,” Edward pleaded, “I give you something we agree upon, you remove my parents’ claim on me.”

“Well, no matter what I propose, you aren’t going to agree to it,” Oswald snorted, “I can tell you that.”

“And why is that?”

“Because elvish magic is strong and blood ties are seen as claims by the magic itself. There is only one way I could free you from your parents’ claim.”

“And that is?”

“I establish a claim on you that is stronger than theirs. Simply put, you would have to marry me.”

Edward choked on air, “I’m sorry?”

He must have misheard.

“I do not jest, my old friend,” Oswald insisted, “The only claim elvish magic recognizes over blood ties is the sworn oath of marriage. Tell you what – if you’re still interested, which I know you’re not, I won’t add anything else to the deal. Just a simple offer of marriage.”

Edward watched him carefully, calculating.

“Alright, well, if that’s all, I’ll be on my – “

As Oswald turned to go, all his hypothetical future flashed before his eyes, paralleled with the alternative. What could the worst outcome of agreeing be? Oswald had betrayed him, that much he knew, but it was not a wholly unbalanced dynamic. Edward struck back with equal animosity, if slightly weaker force. But unlike the elves, Edward possessed good memories of Oswald as well, dreams – once cherished, now buried to even himself – no, that would not do. Even if he agreed, Oswald still hated him. It would not do to pretend otherwise, to raise his hopes…

But even if Oswald hated him, even if Oswald continued to lie to him, betray him… he had been burying his heartbreak for years, surely this would not change anything? Surely his fate at Oswald’s side was preferable to the condemnation of his fate as the elvish crown prince?

Oswald already had one foot in a portal he’d opened in the wall, and Edward lurched forward, hand outstretched to stop him.

He spoke before Oswald could vanish, and his words did the trick.

“I accept.”

It was Oswald’s turn to choke, “Excuse me?”

“I said, ‘I accept,’. I’ll marry you, just get me out of here,” he exhaled, anxiety and tension simultaneously releasing and being formed within him. This was it. He was going to tie himself, formally, to the person who had built him up and torn him down time and time again. He could only hope he’d made the right decision.

“You accept?” Oswald was looking at him differently, and Edward didn’t have the patience to analyze it, “Yes, now hurry up.”

“Alright, alright,” Oswald held up his hands, “Marriage to a demon isn’t all that hard. Just a little good, old-fashioned blood sharing and an oath of loyalty. Are you ready?”

Edward gulped and whispered, “Yes.”

~       ~       ~

“There you go, then, Mr. Cobblepot,” Oswald smirked as he ran a finger over his claim on Edward. Perhaps they could add the human and elvish customs of jewelry once they were out of the realm, but for now, Oswald was more than happy to see his mark on Edward’s arm. He sported one, himself, although he suspected the act meant less to Edward.

“You’re all mine, now,” he sighed. Edward was examining his scar-to-be with great interest, possibly to avoid having to interact with the man towards whom his feelings were so conflicted. He was fretting, increasingly panicked by the moment, and Oswald had just reached out to placate him when the door to his room was thrown open.

Three thugs stood in the doorway, surveying the room.

“Looks like Gordon was right. Put one of them in danger, the other will show up eventually. Guy knows his traps, I’ll give him that.”

“He still didn’t notice us, though,” the one in the middle scoffed, “Couldn’t tell he had a tail for  _ weeks _ !”

“Yeah, he’s an idiot, that one. So – do we grab them both?”

“Nah, just the one we’re here for.”

“Which one is that?”

“The tall one,” said the thug on the left, “Heard the other guy call him Mr. Cobblepot. Must be him.”

Oswald stood, readying himself to fight, “Now hold on – “

A stunning blast of  _ something _ hit Oswald before he could finish, and he collapsed. Edward dashed towards him, a part of himself wondering why he cared so much, when the other two thugs grabbed ahold of him and pulled him into the void to travel.

~       ~       ~

When Edward came to, the first thing he noticed was that he was chained up again.

The second thing he noticed was that  _ these _ chains were on fire.

He let out a very undignified scream.

At least there didn’t appear to be anyone there to laugh at him or ogle him like some sort of object. He struggled to recall how he got here and managed to piece together a basic explanation. Jim Gordon had been using him as bait, reverting to his old, demon-hunting ways and attempting to catch his nemesis, Oswald Cobblepot. Someone – probably Sophia Falcone – had sent a tail after Gordon,  _ knowing _ he would go after Cobblepot and intending to swoop in for the kill when he did. Except, they were so incompetent, they grabbed him instead, all because he now shared the same last name.

And somehow,  _ somehow _ the fact that he was  _ married _ to Oswald Cobblepot, of all people, made him feel weirder than  _ any  _ of the other parts to that convoluted kidnapping.

That is, until a searing new pain caused him to promptly forget what he was thinking about at all. He studied the place he was in and was astounded to find that it was a dry pit filled with lava snakes. One of which was currently winding its way up his leg. It reared back, then lunged, taking a bite out of his flesh but at least wholly cauterizing the wound it left.

Edward screamed again.

Soon enough, his mind was blank of everything except pain, fear, and a desperate hope and desire to see Oswald again. He was in too much pain to deny himself the one comfort that remained, and so he broke down the walls he had built up around himself, dug up the memories he had buried, and let himself slip into the old fantasies of a life at Oswald’s side…

~       ~       ~

“Ah, Dr. Thompkins, I wondered if the rumors were true.”

Lee spun around, curved dagger pressed to Oswald’s throat immediately. She registered his face and took a step back, frowning, but not lowering the knife, “Oswald? How did you get free?”

“A mutual friend of ours,” Oswald smiled, “Ed summoned me.”

“Ed? Where is he? Is he okay?” Lee questioned, thoughts racing with the many rescue plans she and Martin had brainstormed. They still hadn’t settled on one, but now it seemed they might not need to. But if Ed had summoned Oswald, then  _ where was he? _

“Yes, no, and no,” Oswald’s speech was efficient yet sober, “I need your help.”

Lee almost laughed at that, “You? Are asking  _ me? _ For help?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“She’s taken Ed,” he spoke in a rush, desperation beginning to color his voice, “She wanted me, but her thugs made a mistake, and now Ed’s where I’m supposed to be, being tortured for things  _ I _ did. We have to get him out of there!”

There was a brief pause, and then…

“Why do you care so much?” Lee asked calmly, “I thought you hated him?”

Oswald rolled his eyes with impatience, “You of all people should know I never stopped loving him. Aren’t you the emotionally aware one in this godforsaken universe? Normally I’d spend all day trying to convince you otherwise, but we don’t have  _ time _ .”

Someone knocked on the doorframe and both of the room’s occupants turned to look. A small silhouette stood, framed in the doorway.

Oswald froze.

“Martin?”

The boy was staring at Oswald as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He as good as answered when he dashed forward, dropping his chalk in his haste to wrap his arms around Oswald.

“I missed you, too,” Oswald’s own arms came up to hold the boy, a mixture of relief at seeing him okay and concern at his being  _ here _ , in the most crime-ridden city in the world, coursing through him. He gave Martin’s arm a light squeeze and stood back up to his full height, asking, “How’ve you been holding up?”

After retrieving the chalk, Martin scrawled out:  _ Lee’s been taking care of me. And Edward. You two should talk, once we get him back. _

Oswald opened his mouth, too many things to say muddling up his mind. When had Martin left the safe house? How and why had he chosen the Narrows? How did he meet Lee? Why did Lee take him in? What had Edward said or done to garner Martin’s approval?

And that was just to start.

Time, however, waited for no demon, so he ruffled Martin’s hair and turned back to Lee.

“I believe I know where they’re keeping him,” he said, “And I know how to get in. I just need some reinforcements.”

“Done, on the condition that you bring Edward back here immediately.”

“Agreed.”

Lee stuck out her hand to shake, and Oswald sealed the deal.

~       ~       ~

They got in with barely a scratch, and Oswald was feeling almost good about the whole thing.

Good, that is, until he found him.

Edward’s body hung from the flaming shackles intended for demon-kind, barely conscious, and with far too many bite marks from the tiny, hungry snakes he had been trapped with littering his body. Oswald’s first instinct was to destroy the snakes, but lava snakes weren’t common, even in the demon realm. They barred his path, so he captured them all, storing them in a pocket dimension, in order to reach Edward and free him from the chains. Path clear, he all but ran forward, summoning a weapon powerful enough to smash the fiery fetters.

Once free, Edward’s body collapsed under him, causing him to fall into the waiting arms of his newly-made husband. Oswald held him like he weighed nothing, and his heart broke at how broken he looked. Edward’s eyes fluttered open – well, his right eye fluttered open, his left was a bit more stuck together with dried blood – and Oswald tried to prop his head up further as he held him.

“O – O – Oz…?” he croaked, coughing at the end, as he watched him through blurry eyes. Oswald clutched his body all the closer, wishing there was some form of comfort he could offer to his unrequited love. He would have told him to save his energy and not speak if he thought it would do any good.

“Y – You came – to get me? You – you saved me?” he coughed again, and Oswald attempted to shush him, to – as he predicted – no avail.

And then Edward spoke again, and Oswald’s mind stuttered to a halt.

“I l – love you. Sorry I l – lied.”

“Shh, no, it’s okay, my dear, my darling Ed. Everything’s alright,” he whispered into Edward’s hair, carrying him out of the dungeon bridal style. A part of him didn’t think it was okay, although he wasn’t sure if it was their past unhealthy relationship that bothered him, or merely seeing Edward in such a state of pain and distress. Now was hardly the time to delve into either of those subjects, however, so he stuck with sweet nothings to placate him.  

Edward continued to mumble for the rest of the journey, a largely indecipherable jumble of ‘love you’s and ‘sorry’s. When they were nearing the Narrows, he passed out. Oswald hurried himself along, hoping it wasn’t a bad sign.

When he finally reached the club, Lee was immediately upon him, demanding he step away and fetch her supplies while she tended to Edward’s wounds. Oswald hovered nearby, watching her work and occasionally handing her the items she asked for. He had no skill for healing, so there was little else he could do.

At long last, she stood up, closed her supply kit, and laid a blanket over Edward’s prone form.

“Well?” Oswald asked, fingers twisting together in agitation, “Will he be alright?”

Lee took a deep breath, “I think so. I really do. You got to him in time, and he  _ should _ get better. He’ll be alright.”

Oswald’s hands darted out to clutch the nearer one of Edward’s, then, and Lee looked away to allow Oswald to pretend those weren’t tears. He put a lot of effort into his image, after all.

“Would you mind if I tell Martin he can come in?” she asked as she finished packing her supplies into the cabinet.

There was a pause, and then a quiet, “Please do.”

Lee gave a small smile, despite herself, as she realized that Martin may well be the key to helping them  _ both _ improve morally…

~       ~       ~

_ What happened to him? _

It was such a simple question, Oswald mused as he read it a third time. Simple. Edward had been mistaken for him and tortured in the style of the demons. Straightforward.

“He… was punished for a crime he didn’t commit,” Oswald answered instead. He didn’t want to upset Martin anymore than he had to. Seeing Edward’s unconscious and damaged body had done enough to the poor boy.

_ Was it the elves? _

Oswald blinked. Were the elves really the first beings that came to Martin’s mind as cruel? More so than even demons?

“Only a part of it.”

_ He’ll be fine, right? _

“Dr. Thompkins said he would,” Oswald assured him, a comforting – or perhaps protective – hand resting on his shoulder, “Lee, I mean.”

Martin nodded.

_ Will you talk to him like I said? _

Oswald opened his mouth, the barrage of questions returning at the reminder.

“I – we have, already. A bit. But you’re right, we should probably talk more.”

Martin nodded again.

_ I’m very smart. _

Oswald couldn’t help the fond laugh that sprang forth at that, although he was quick to ensure Martin wouldn’t take it the wrong way, “You already sound so like him…”

Martin smirked.

“What have I gotten myself into?” Oswald closed his eyes briefly, imagining life with the  _ both _ of them around. Oh. He hadn’t told Martin yet…

“Martin?”

He waited for the boy to look up at him before continuing, “I have begun to view you almost as… a son.”

_ You’re more of a father than I’ve ever had. _

Oswald felt himself choke up slightly at that. Who knew a powerful demon with a heart as twisted as his leg could be so emotional? Well, he supposed, his mother had known…

That was not helping him be less emotional.

“Well, how would you feel about the possibility of… another father?”

Martin’s eyes widened, and he began to breath quicker, fingers flying across the slate as he scrawled out his next sentence.

_ You’re getting rid of me again? _

Oswald felt his own eyes widen, confused as he tried to decipher what Martin meant. And then his words registered, and he hurried to calm the boy.

“No! No, that’s not what I meant. I mean… how would you feel if I got married?”

Martin visibly relaxed, pondering his question before writing something very short. Oswald waited with baited breath for the approval of his son.

_ Depends. _

Well, that didn’t help Oswald’s anxiety  _ at all. _

“Depends on what?”

_ Is my hypothetical second father Edward? _

Oswald spluttered, trying his hardest to be proud rather than affronted that a ten-year old human boy could see in days what it had taken an elven prince and a demon king years to realize.

_ I’ll take that as a yes. _

“Cheeky,” Oswald chastised, before the tension returned tenfold, “Alright, so, in this hypothetical scenario, Edward is your second father. Do you approve or not?”

_ Don’t be silly. _

Oswald raised an eyebrow, so Martin rolled his eyes and wiped the slate, writing his answer at last.

_ Of course I approve. _

“I think you may have picked up Edward’s penchant for never giving a direct answer, as well as his ego…” Oswald pursed his lips while Martin just giggled.

_ So, how are you gonna ask him? _

“Already did,” Oswald gave a smirk of his own as Martin’s jaw dropped, before his face was overcome with a tiny, tiny rage.

_ AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO TELL ME!!! _

“I’m telling you now, aren’t I?” he joked before sighing and answering for real, “Getting him safe was more important at the time. I swear, I didn’t intend to keep this from you.”

Martin thought it over before nodding and sliding off his chair to give Oswald a hug.

“I’m forgiven?”

Martin nodded.

“I’m glad,” he glanced at Edward’s prone form and decided it would be better for Martin and himself both to be active, rather than staring at the missing piece of their nearly complete family, “Say, can you help me with something?”

Martin raised a questioning brow and Oswald leaned down conspiratorially, despite the lack of possible eavesdroppers in their vicinity, to whisper, “I want to make a surprise for Edward when he wakes up. He’s probably going to be feeling miserable for the next few days, so why don’t we cook him his favorite meal?”

Martin nodded excitedly, latching on to Oswald’s hand and all but dragging him towards the shared kitchen in the spacious living area above the club. They passed Lee on the way out and she took it as her cue to take a shift watching Edward. The unspoken words that passed between her and Oswald as their eyes locked said very clearly that Edward should not, under any circumstances, wake up alone.

~       ~       ~

Just over two hours later, Edward stirred.

Six thoughts entered Edward’s brain upon waking, and they formed in this exact order:

One: He was in far too much pain to even consider getting up.

Two: He was (thankfully) no longer bound in flames or being attacked by snakes made of pure lava.

Three: Now that they weren’t there trying to eat him alive, he could appreciate how fascinating a snake made of lava really was. How were they even living?

Four: He didn’t know where he was.

Five: The last thing he could recall was Oswald holding him, although that was the subject of so many of his fantasies it had  _ probably _ been a hallucination. Hence why he’d felt so comfortable confessing all his deepest secrets to him. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse this way.

Six: His eyelids didn’t feel as sticky and crusted with blood anymore, so perhaps he should try to pry them open.

The first thing that registered when he managed to open his eyes was that the room was blissfully dark. He took a deep, unfortunately painful breath, and began trying to find something familiar in the darkness.

“Ed?”

Oh.

That was familiar.

He tried to speak, to ask if this was really Lee, or just a hallucination of her, when she appeared in his field of vision, laying a very solid hand on his shoulder and saying, “Shh, don’t try to speak. Give it time. You strained you jaw and probably shredded you throat screaming over the past three days. I’m sorry about that, truly, but we got to you as fast as we could.”

Edward promptly tried to speak again, his mouth failing to do more than twitch open slightly.

“Ed,” Lee warned before her voice grew gentle, “Alright, I’m going to ask you a few yes or no questions. Blink once for yes, twice for no, understood?”

Blink.

“Good. Are you in pain?”

Blink.

“Do you think there’s anything I can do for you? Ice? Incense? Healing magic? Anything?”

Blink. Blink.

“You’re doing great. Do you want something to drink? I have something that might soothe your throat and muscles enough to allow you a few words.”

This was met with a dry look and a single blink. Lee smiled and pulled the potion off a nearby shelf.

“This is one of my own creations,” she informed him, mixing two spoonfuls of it into a steaming cup of something. She saw him watching and added, “It’s Jasmine tea.”

Ah. Of course.

Once the potion was stirred in, she brought the cup to him and carefully propped him up with pillows. The movement caused him moderate pain, but the prospect of a drink – and regaining the ability to speak – outweighed his discomfort.

Slowly he pried his jaw open with Lee’s help and carefully drank the entire cup, one sip at a time.

“How are you feeling?”

“Miserable.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile, “Well, you’re in the clear. It should only get easier from here.”

She turned away briefly, and Edward decided to voice the question that had been nagging at him for the past few minutes, “You said… we?”

Lee froze, back turned, and said, “Yes. I did say that.”

“Is – Was Oswald here?” Edward scanned the dark room, although he already knew the demon was not there. If Lee had been working with Oswald to free him then there was a good chance the person he confessed to had, in fact, been real. His heart dropped as he realized the implications of that with the context of one very absent demon. How had he ever been foolish enough to hope that –

“Yes. He helped bring you home. Practically burst in here demanding I help him get you back.”

“Where,” Edward swallowed, unsure if it was the pain in his throat or the fear in his heart that had tripped him up, “Where is he now?”

“He’s upstairs, with Martin.”

Edward’s heart lurched, the hope that he had  _ just _ been berating himself for rekindled with naught but four words.

“Do you want me to go fetch him?”

“Can you?”

“Martin will want to see you, too.”

“Tell him… I’m okay. I need to – to talk with Oswald first.”

“Okay.”

Lee took the empty cup from him and departed the room, leaving Edward alone with his thoughts. Could it be that Oswald really did still want him, after all this time? That he didn’t hate Edward anymore than Edward hated him, despite trying is damned best at it? And if so, was Edward really ready to admit without the influence of severe pain that he had been in love with Oswald since shortly after they’d become friends? He had spent so long trying to convince himself and Oswald of that fact, could he really just cast it aside?

But pretending he hated Oswald was so  _ exhausting _ . He tried to summon the feelings of betrayal that had fueled him during the early days of their feud, but all he managed was the bone deep ache of regret and loneliness. He didn’t want that. He wanted his friend back.

He just needed to figure out if that was still possible.

“Ed? You’re awake?”

The door creaked open to reveal the subject of Edward’s inner debate himself. Oswald looked more or less the same as ever, more put together than he had when Edward had summoned him to the elven realm, but more tired also. He looked worried.

“I am,” Edward acknowledged, almost as if he were telling himself that rather than Oswald.

The man entered the room swiftly, closing the door behind himself as he approached Edward.

“Are you doing alright?”

“Could you ever love me again?” Edward bit his lip as soon as he heard the words escape, wanting to clap a hand over his mouth but being unable to move either arm. His eyes were wide as he waited for Oswald’s response, cursing his tendency to blurt what was on his mind.

Oswald was watching him with equally wide eyes, uncertain as to where this conversation was headed.

“I…” he let himself trail off, hoping Edward would interrupt but being disappointed as Edward hung on his every word, gesture, and twitch, “Can I ask… why it matters?”

Edward felt his hope flicker a little and forced himself to answer the question, “I am the enemy of tyrants, the backbone of every revolution. You have me when you have nothing, in the believer’s eyes I’m the solution. What am I?”

His voice trailed off on the end, too hoarse to finish but knowing Oswald knew what he meant.

“A riddle, Ed? Really?”

“Yeah…”

“I – I don’t know.”

“Hope,” Edward coughed out, muscles burning as they contracted, “I… I don’t want to hope, if – if you can’t…”

Understanding hit Oswald like a log tossed from the ramparts of a fortress colliding with the enemy forces. He stepped closer, now at Edward’s side as he reached to take his hand, “ _ Ed. _ ”

“I – I tied myself to you, and then I told you the very thing I’d been trying to keep from you,” Edward rasped, fingers tightening around Oswald’s despite the effort it took, “Please tell me there’s hope…”

“Ed, there –  _ of course _ there’s hope! I’ve always loved you. I thought you knew that,” he lifted Edward’s hand up fractionally, supporting his arm at the elbow as he bent to brush a kiss across his knuckles, “I thought that’s why you hated me.”

Edward gave a small gasp at the feeling of lips against his skin, any pain the action might have caused eclipsed by the sheer, overwhelming relief that he had not just married a man who held him in contempt. That maybe, just maybe, he could still have those things he had once so desperately wished for, before his control over his life had slipped away.

“I – I didn’t,” he found the strength to say, “I didn’t hate you. I was just… hurt.”

Oswald closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, Edward’s hand still clasped in his, “That, above all else, I regret. I never want to hurt you again.”

“I don’t – don’t want to hurt you either,” Edward offered, and Oswald opened his eyes to meet his gaze and smiled.

“I’m glad.”

They sat in silence, just enjoying each other’s company without the animosity for once, for a few long minutes.

“Martin will be wanting to see you,” Oswald said finally, “We made you something. Can you eat?”

“I – I think so,” Edward’s stomach chose that moment to growl at him, “Well, I’m hungry, at least.”

Oswald sent him a fond grin and nodded, “I’ll tell him to bring it down.”

“What – what did you make?”

“Quince turnovers,” Oswald said, “I recall you had a fondness for them. We were thinking soup and sops later, if you’re up to something a bit messier for supper.”

“I certainly hope so, that sounds delicious,” Edward answered.

“Good.”

And if either of them thought this was oddly domestic for a couple of displaced, warmongering nobles, neither of them wanted it to stop, so they said nothing.

~       ~       ~

Jim Gordon was beyond frustrated. First, Lee was going through some sort of rebellious phase, wasting the potential he knew she had, and standing up to him as if he were one of the bad guys.  Second, he had been taken by surprise by three of the dumbest thugs in existence, causing him to lose his grand prize – the one demon who had escaped him a record number of times. And now this!

Just this morning, he’d received word that Oswald was back, living in the  _ Narrows _ , no less, running a bakery and soup kitchen with his  _ husband and son _ out of the back of Lee’s fight club. What was the world coming to?

Well, one way or another, Jim wasn’t buying the friendly neighborhood baker act. He was going to confront them if it was the last thing he did and find out  _ exactly _ what they were hiding.

He navigated his way through the Narrows without attracting undue attention and found himself standing in front of the bakery. Free hot meals were being served on one side, and an array of breads and pastries were available for sale on the other. Selling them was a young boy Jim didn’t recognize – Oswald’s son? And serving the free meals was…

Jim did a double-take.

Serving the free meals was Gotham’s former king, himself. Oswald was standing there, apron on, ladling soup into trenchers.

What.

Jim flung the door open, striding in to figure out what this was really all about.

Instantly every weapon in the place was trained on him. He briefly paused to wonder about people who couldn’t afford food affording weapons, but his focus was on Oswald. Besides, if he were truly curious, he supposed bitterly, he could always ask Lee.

“Jim,” Oswald greeted him neutrally, “What a surprise.”

“What’s going on here, Cobblepot?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I know you aren’t really here to serve food to the undeserving poor. What’s your game?”

“My game?” Oswald blinked, “I don’t understand. There’s no  _ game _ , Jim. Don’t be paranoid, it’s not a great look on you.”

“Do not mess with me, Cobblepot, I’m warning you.”

“I’m not ‘messing’ with you, I’m stating facts.”

Jim’s face twisted into a scowl of frustration before he latched onto a new tactic, “Rumor has it you’re working here with your husband and son. Is that the kid?” he gestured at the boy.

“What of it?”

“Who’d want to marry  _ you? _ ”

“You’d like to meet my husband?” Oswald asked, “Well, you’re in luck. You already know him. Dear!” he moved to the door to the kitchens and stuck his head in, “We have a visitor, my love.”

Jim grimaced at the names, wondering if Oswald really was like this or if he was doing it just to make him uncomfortable. The answer, of course, was both, but Jim didn’t need to know that.

The door to the kitchens opened and Jim was shocked to see his former colleague and the man he’d once kidnapped standing there, wearing a choker to match the one he only now noticed Oswald was wearing in the style of the elves. Was this what being murdered felt like? His lungs didn’t want to work and his brain felt like it would explode from questions, but he could mostly boil it down to three. These three, however, could not be contained.

“ _ WHAT?! _ ” the word ripped out of his throat as he gaped at the pair of them, now holding hands to exhibit their ceremonial scars, in the style of the demons, of course.

“ _ HOW?! Why?!” _

“Good afternoon to you, too, Gordon,” Edward bit out in response, “You’re lucky I’m not in the mood to clean today, because if I was, I would be wiping your guts off the ground right now for what you did to me.”

Jim decided to bypass the ‘marriage’ thing and focus on that.

“Hey, no hard feelings,” he held up his hands, “I just needed a way to get at Oswald, you were the most convenient, I didn’t know they were gonna be like that – “

“Classic Jim Gordon,” Edward interrupted, “You know, I think I had a bit of a crush on you, before I met my husband-to-be. The way you can just… lie to yourself about who you are by ignoring the things you don’t like… I would have killed to be that callous back when I was working with you. Oh wait,” he giggled, “I did. But then again, I bet you have too. But it’s okay, because it’s okay if they deserved it, right?”

“Well they – “

“Gosh, what is it with you and  _ excuses? _ ” he rolled his eyes, “Can’t you ever admit you were  _ wrong? _ That you did the wrong thing?”

“Can you?”

“He can, actually,” Oswald jumped in to defend him, “And so can I. We wouldn’t be together otherwise.”

Oh great. Now they were smiling at each other.

“And that would be horrible,” Edward sighed, absolutely lovestruck as he stared into Oswald’s eyes.

“Unforgivable, really,” Oswald said and pulled him down for a hard kiss.

Jim just stared at them, lost, until something came sailing out of the air from behind him, hitting Edward squarely on the side of the face and bouncing off to land on the counter. The couple broke apart to peer at it, confused.

There on the table was a hot cross bun. Only, instead of the icing forming a cross across the top of it, it formed five letters.

_ G R O S S _

Immediately their eyes snapped up to the baking counter, where Martin stood. When he saw he had their attention, he scrunched up his nose and stuck his tongue out. Edward stifled a giggle as Oswald attempted to berate him through his own laughter.

Jim didn’t know what to make of this place, he  _ couldn’t _ bring himself to trust these people, but it was obvious that whatever nefarious plans they were cooking up, they were also quite literally cooking. He wasn’t going to find his evidence here, so it was time he left. It wasn’t as if he was welcome, anyway. He’d seen all he needed to see. An unfortunate waste of a trip.

But Oswald had taken up his own advice to Martin and begun regular sacrifices to Fortune. If he was going to interfere with her work, he had better stay on her good side.

And so it was that Jim Gordon never noticed the smuggled wine beneath the bread counter, or the stash of contraband potions in the kitchens, or even the stockpile of weapons hidden beneath each table or chair. And Fortune would see to it that he never  _ would _ … at least not until the next great plot of the Cobblepot family – fathers, son, honorary cool aunt, and all – was ready to be put into motion.  


**Author's Note:**

> Alright, some extra facts since I totally did _not_ design a map, mythology, and history for this au...
> 
> In this universe:
> 
> Grundy is a tame troll - I didn't have the energy to figure out how Butch works into that  
> Barbara is a human, and queen of the pirates  
> Tabitha is her highest ranking officer and usually is the one leading the fleet  
> Selina is Tabitha's first mate  
> Ivy is a wandering Fae who worked with Oswald for a time before she got bored with his fixation on Edward and decided to see what else was out there  
> Sophia and Mario are both half-demons, but Mario renounced his demon heritage, causing another demon to curse him out of spite  
> Jerome is half-fae half-demon and causes problems for literally everyone  
> Dwarves exist, but they don't have time for this shit and mostly keep to their mountains. They only interact to the extent that they must for trade


End file.
